When you canít last any longer than fifteen minutes doing yard work (especially when you yard is as scandalously overgrown as mine is), then youíd better get out there and do something every day. Or nearly every day, anyway. Because if you miss a day or two or three, soon fifteen minutes a day becomes fifteen minutes a week, and then you might as well spend that fifteen minutes watching infomercials or playing solitaire, for all the good youíre doing.
So, having shirked my responsibility last night in favor of a softball game, I was highly motivated to put in my time today. It never got really hot today, so I had that going for me, but I wasnít sure I could escape the Bossís clutches in time. At four this afternoon, he popped up on the radar with some new insurance forms he wanted to overnight to our agent.
First I had to find out what he was talking about, since Iíd never seen or heard about these forms. Then I had to do some fast and furious typing. Luckily, I didnít have to do the overnighting. Since they required his signature, he had to take the form off the fax and put the package together himself. Hereís another advantage of the hundred miles between us. While he was off to UPS or FedEx or whatever, I was outside with my weed trimmer.
To be honest, I donít think I did myself (or my yard) much good in tonightís fifteen action-packed minutes. I made a judgment call, but my judgment was a little off. I spent way too much time trying to hack the cattails away from the wisteria, when all I was doing was wasting string and time and all the feeling in my right arm (and my left arm).
Some weeds have to be pulled up the old-fashioned way, by hand. I know this, but now that I have the equipment I resist it. I want to use my tools, not my hands, but itís counterproductive when all Iím doing is whacking the tops off things that are growing higher than the fence. It might look better from the other side of the fence, but Iím still going to have to strap on the gloves and do the real work.